One Hundred Days
by Remielle
Summary: Time didn't seem to matter - not for them. A compilation of modern day drabbles. Male Hawke/Fenris. AU.
1. Beginnings

Inspired by 100 drabble prompts from a livejournal community.

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><p>01. Beginnings.<p>

He was going to starting anew - fresh. He moved into a new city – far from where he came from, to make sure that no one knew who he was. He had changed his surname, enrolled in a new university and he rented a small apartment in an old building no one bothered to look at. His landlady was old, a widow, who was kind, homely and didn't ask too much questions. He bought new clothes as well, all in dark colors, plain and practical. He also wore glasses now. He didn't need them though, his eyesight was perfect, but the frames were an excuse to not meet people's eyes on the street.

Fenris didn't want to be seen - not yet, not until he won't be who he was.

He only did things out of necessity now. He was going to a university (and risked people getting to know who him) to be able to earn a diploma; because that was the only way he could earn a decent living in the years to come. And only with a substantial amount of money can he really protect himself. So that one day he can stop looking over his shoulder, waiting to be caught. He wondered if there would come a time he'd stop feeling so scared. Once upon a time he could remember when he wasn't pinned down by this fear, but that was a long time ago. Or at least, it _felt_ as if it was a long time ago. He didn't know anymore, it didn't matter. All he knew now was that he was escaping – so very desperate to _change _himself.

Because all he really wanted was to stop running.

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><p>Garrett Hawke was finally graduating with first Latin honors from one of the most prestigious law schools in the world. He smiled like a prince, thanking everyone who congratulated him on his success. The suit he was wearing was the finest one he's ever laid his eyes on. He was almost afraid of wearing it – it had cost what his mother had been trying to budget for their family for a whole year. But now that didn't matter – money wasn't going to be a problem any longer. Top firms practically begged on their knees to employ him.<p>

Now his ravaged name didn't matter – no one cared that he was an Amell.

In a few years, he can buy back his mother's estate which his uncle had secretly sold to pay for his gambling debts. He was going to rebuild everything his uncle Gamlen had thoughtlessly destroyed. He was going to rebuild what was left of his family – for his mother, for Bethany and Carver and for the memory of his father.

But even in the face of a goal, it didn't stop him from missing his hometown. He had lived far away from gigantic building and air heavy with smog all his childhood. He was always happy then, he couldn't remember ever wishing he led another kind of life. But it all changed when his father passed away. Uncle Gamlen suddenly came asking financial aid from his mother. They didn't have much to give him, so they left their peaceful lives to help _family_. He hated city when he arrived; it was too cramped. Everything was gray instead of the greens of his home. Everyone seemed angry here; too concerned with their lives to care what happened to their neighbors. And his mother was always, _always_ sad here. The warmth of family was lost – lost in the betrayal of his mother's brother.

But there was no way he could forget his father's words, _that there was nothing more important than family_. His father's words rang in his mind, and now his father was lost to memory and words – there was no way he would let go of those. And so he braved the near-poverty they lived through for years. He worked four to five odd jobs, until he could afford to get a decent education for himself and his siblings. He laughed a little less, sighed a little more – sometimes he worried that untimely white strands would start sprouting on his head. Leandra would laugh at him then, the sides of her eyes crinkling in joy, and then she would kiss his forehead and tell him how proud she was.

Now, it was all going to pay off. Hawke was heading into a war of wit and gold. The world was just a dirty game, there were tricks to learn, he learned - and he learned them well.

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><p>Fenris was working his shift in a dainty little café near his school. He was wearing a dark blue apron over a white buttoned down shirt. He hasn't been to the barber recently, and his hair was a tad bit too long. It covered his eyes, but he attempted to tidy it up by tying it with a rubber band at the base of his nape.<p>

It was a rather slow day today. He leaned his weight against the countertop behind him and hid his yawn behind his palms.

That was when _he _came into the shop.

_That was when they first met each other._

The first thing Fenris noticed was the man's height. His new customer was probably a head taller than him. His shoulders were unbelievably broad as well, and his dark suit was tailored exactly to highlight his intimidating physique. He watched the man scan the menu hanging above the cashier. He had a strong jaw, covered with light stubble. His cheekbones were sharp under the café lights and his dark brown eyes intensely studying the menu items.

The man finally turned to look at him, his mouth opening to order his drink when he ended up merely blinked at him. Fenris could feel him looking at the grayed markings on his skin. He felt a flash of annoyance, "Are you going to order?" he asked rudely. He half expected the man to react in anger. It wasn't hard for Fenris to guess that he was a wealthy and was probably used to be treated with respect.

But the man merely raised a brow at him. He looked curious, and that irked Fenris a lot more. "Sorry," the man said, his voice sounded pleasant; at least, "I'll have an Americano, a large please." He dug into his slacks for his wallet and fished out bills. Fenris punched his order. He moved about, fixing the coffee before the cashier finished printing the receipt. He could feel the man's gaze on him as he prepared the beverage.

"Did you just start working here?" the customer asked.

"Yes."

"What happened to the other one… what was her name again?"

Fenris couldn't understand what about this person rubbed him the wrong way. But he just did. "How would I know?"

"You're awfully grouchy," the tall man chuckled to himself. Fenris glared at him as he placed the cup of coffee on the counter. "And you're awfully annoying," he said in return as the man took the cup and pushed a bill forward.

"Take this," the man was grinning a little as he pushed a small white card together with the money, "Maybe you'll need it someday," his tone was teasing. Fenris would have thought he was flirting if he wasn't already so irritated with the man.

Fenris took the bill and held it in the air on one hand, with all the intention to stash it in the cashier, but his eyes strayed to the thick cardstock calling card that lay on the marble counter.

_Garrett Hawke_ – the name was printed in a large, plain font in the middle of the small white card. _Private-practice lawyer._ The name was sharp, as if punctuated at every syllable, fitting for the impossibly tall man in a black suit, Fenris mused.

"Hey, excuse me, your change - "

But the man had already closed the café door behind him, crossing the café with a few long strides. Fenris stared as he walked away, vaguely annoyed, vaguely curious; the man had his right hand up, as if waving.

Fenris just didn't know if it was meant for him.

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><p>Author's Note: These drabbles are set in more contemporary era. I'm really love how Fenris and Hawke interact and thought it would be interesting to put them into a contemporary situation – especially since the foundation of their relationship makes them such flexible characters. I hope you enjoy reading these drabbles!<p>

I didn't expect this chapter to turn out feeling rather heavy, but then I wanted to give a bit of background for the two characters.


	2. Classmates

02. Classmates.

Fenris could have sworn that the annoying man in a black suit was made a constant effort of reminding Fenris of his annoying existence. Garrett Hawke.

_Hawke_.

The name was strong as it rolled off his lips. It reminded him of a predator, swift in its kill – clean, merciless.

But it was nothing like the man who stood outside the lecture hall, with his back turned to Fenris, laughing with a couple of flirty university girls. Fenris glared at the man, this was the second time this month he saw Hawke loitering outside his classroom. The fifth time, if he counted the number of time he caught him in the bookstore across –

_Why was he even keeping count?_ The thought made Fenris glare harder at the turned back before deliberately shifting his attention elsewhere.

_Why was his professor late again? _

"Is that someone you know?" the girl sitting next to Fenris asked, her eyes had followed where Fenris was staring rather intensely just a few moments ago. She had ginger hair tied in a neat bun. Her eyes were wide and friendly as she stared into Fenris' face, waiting for an answer. "You know I've seen him around a few times," Orana continued when Fenris didn't bother answering. "Is he a professor maybe?" She poked Fenris' side, "The way you keep glaring at him… did he give you a bad mark?"

Fenris grunted, "No, but I'm pretty sure he's not a professor." A stalker maybe – the kinds who wore Armani suits.

"Oh but he is," a familiar drawl sounded from behind them. Obviously the topic had caught Isabela's interest. "He's a part-time lecturer for some complex sounding political science subject." She crossed her legs and looked thoughtfully at Hawke's direction, "He looked delicious though doesn't he? So long and lean, I bet he'll look good against white sheets. " Isabela wiggled her eyebrows and laughed at Orana who had turned red.

Fenris rolled his eyes at Isabela's antics, "Another trophy to add to your collection?"

Isabela gasped mockingly at his words, "No, Fenris. A teacher," she said, putting her hand against her amply exposed chest, "I'd never." But she settled back against her seat and had a wide grin on her face. "Do you want to bet on it?" she asked a moment later, excitement in her voice.

Orana gave a scandalized squeak, before laughing. "A week," she put in.

"You underestimate me, darling." Isabella mused for a moment, "How about three days? I could totally imagine him sexy in a speedo. "

"He might be fat under those clothes you know," Orana said.

"No," now it was Isabela who sounded scandalized, "Orana my dear, no one could ooze that much sex appeal and have anything but rock hard abs, tight thighs and be deliciously _huge_."

The female chatter faded as Fenris' eyes slid back to where Hawke was. The tall, dark haired man was now leaning on the opposite wall. Fenris could see him clearly now. The top of Hawke's pristine white shirt was unbuttoned, and he wasn't wearing a tie. He was still talking with a girl, occasionally glancing at an opened book he cradled with one large hand. Fenris could faintly hear the low baritone of Hawke's voice, but he couldn't hear the exchange from where he sat. He was probably being conceited thinking that Hawke purposefully positioned himself there so that Fenris could see him. It only made sense to see Hawke around so much if he worked where Fenris studied.

Not that this was a small campus.

Not that there was only one bookstore in the vicinity.

Or one café.

Fenris felt himself start when Hawke raised his gaze to meet his. There was momentary shock that registered in the other man's face - as if he was caught guilty of sneaking a glance at Fenris - but instead of looking away, the ends of the Hawke's lips pulled further in opposite directions and Fenris still found himself still slightly baffled. The eye contact between them was fleeting, as Hawke directed his attention to someone else who spoke to him in the hallway. But the spark of recognition, the infuriating quirk of lips was unmistakable. The man was standing

Still, with the distance between them, Fenris wondered if it had really been for him.

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><p>Author's Note: 2nd drabble up! There's no tangible plot... forgive me? XD I wrote this short piece to try to make concrete (to myself as well) Fenris' first impressions of Hawke. Plus student Isabela! At first I thought it wouldn't be fitting (since she's so worldly!) but then I realized it wouldn't hurt since they won't be students forever *yeey loopholes!* And I think Fenris would actually be friends with both Orana and Isabela if they were classmates.<p>

Feel free to send suggestions of what you want to see!


	3. White

003. White

There was no way Garrett Hawke didn't look absolutely… _ridiculous_.

The man drove a sports car - black, sleek and convertible. He wore custom made suits, and they practically looked all the same – all in black. He has them pressed every single day so he'll always look sharp, lean and intimidating. The Rolex on his right wrist gleamed whenever he jerked his sleeves to check the time. He probably looked like everyone else in his world, Fenris mused, but not with him, sitting in a small café no one probably knew about, or walking into the grocery looking like he's about to attend a wedding.

With his convertible conspicuously parked everywhere he went.

Hawke one day claimed it wasn't because he was showing off his wealth. And as Fenris watched him eat bite after bite, the slightly overcooked beef potpie of this rather shady café; he was inclined to believe the man. It was all about practicality, Hawke once explained to him, while eating the potpie like it was actually _good_. He only finishes with work about half an hour before Fenris finished his last class, and he didn't have time to go home to change into something more casual. Not with Fenris starting his part-time job in an antique shop an hour and a half later.

And it's not as if he'll walk all the way from the law firm to the university.

"If you have the means to be comfortable, then why not?" Hawke reasoned, "And truthfully, the car's only like that because it's a company gift. My boss insisted I looked more successful driving the flamboyant thing," he rolled his eyes, and then smirked at Fenris, "Though you do have to admit, it adds to the appeal, doesn't it?"

"Bullshit," Fenris answered. Hawke knew about Fenris' prejudice against extravagance. But he had shrugged it off, announcing that it didn't apply to him.

One of these days, Fenris was sure he'd have to hit Hawke's head against the wall. Maybe that'll get rid of all the arrogance.

Or hit his _own_ head – maybe then he'll understand why he kept Hawke around.

But today Hawke wasn't dressed in his lawyer get-up. He was wearing a white V-neck shirt that exposed his collarbones and the slight dusting of chest hair. The shirt wrapped invitingly around his well-toned biceps and emphasized how fit his body was. His straight-cut jeans were dark blue, but were already fading from the washing. Fenris' eyes strayed warily to the exposed skin at his neck.

_Was it even possible to have custom tailored V-necks? _

He almost looked like he jumped straight out from a Calvin Klein underwear poster.

"Why do you look like that?" Hawke asked, and Fenris realized that he had been staring. Hawke attempts to mirror his expression, exaggerating his frown, "Do I look odd? Bethany shopped for these jeans just a few days ago; she promised I'd look dashing in them. If I don't, I better go back to the shop and demand a refund."

It never dawned to Fenris how anyone could look so sexy in _normal_ clothes. Normal clothes that were supposed to make you look… normal.

"You do have to say something for a conversation to work you know?" Hawke raises a brow at him the same time he raises his fork of potpie into his mouth. He had slight stubble around his jaw, and he rubbed his chin before setting the fork down. "Okay, what's wrong Fenris? You've barely spoken, and you've barely touched your food," he motioned to the untouched quiche.

Fenris coughed into his hand. Thanking that his dark complexion didn't give away the color that was heating his cheeks. "I'm going to work now," he announced, standing up and turning away.

"What?" Hawke glances at his watch and frowned, "It's still _really_ early you know."

"I have to do some inventory before my shift starts," Fenris answer was curt. He avoided looking at him any more than necessary and just took his bag and walked towards the front door. The faster he got away, the easier it'll be to resist jumping the man.

"Do you want me to drive you?" Hawke called out, just before Fenris left the cozy store. The light haired man turned to glare at him in disapproval before closing the door behind him.

Hawke sighed to himself, but he couldn't help the grin that stretched his lips, "You won't let me drive you, but you always let me pay," Hawke said dryly, "I'm sensing something here. Am I about to become sugar daddy?"

He turns to the young woman at the cashier. They were the only two people left in the small room, "Say, these jeans _do_ look good on me right? My _date_ wouldn't say."

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><p>Author's Note: I realize I've been fangirl-ing Hawke too much! . The next few drabbles I've already written <em>also<em> fangirls Hawke a lot - so I think I'll write other things first. Things with more plot? Wheee. And got a few prompts! It's so cool because the ideas I initially had were reflected in your suggestions! (except that you guys are faaar more creative and specific with them!) Thanks a buunch!

**Wikipedia:** also definition: likewise.


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